


You Aren't the Bad Guy

by Guesswhosliterate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Loving Lucifer (Supernatural), Original Character(s), Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26886427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guesswhosliterate/pseuds/Guesswhosliterate
Summary: Most of Harley Lawrence's life has been dysfunctional. And it doesn't get any easier when she runs into the Winchester brothers, or when she meets the devil himself: But it does get better. While Harley finds herself with an entirely new kind of chaos in her life, it's also the best thing that could happen to her, as she finds love, family, and her place in the world. While Harley finds herself with an entirely new kind of chaos in her life, it's also the best thing that could happen to her, as she finds love, family, and her place in the world. A girl who once held love only in distant childhood memories experiences it again as she finally finds the family she's been longing for.
Relationships: Crowley (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester & Original Female Character(s), Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Lucifer (Supernatural), Gabriel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer/Original Character(s), Lucifer/Original Female Character(s), Lucifer/You, Sam Winchester & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	1. The End of Life as I Know It

_'My God, it's nearly three in the morning.'_ The girl thought to herself, the book in her hands bowing as she turns to face the clock on her nightstand, squinting at its small red screen. With a deep sigh and a few forced blinks, her vision cleared. Quiet feet went first, touching down on the hardwood floors with a slight thump muffled by a small rug. The warmth that had surrounded her rushed away as she shifted onto wobbly feet. The girl shuffled across her room with a groan and stepped into the hallway.

A soft draft sent chill bumps sprouting across her thin arms. She rubbed them away, continuing down the hall with silent feet. She stopped in a dimly lit doorway. In her room, her younger sister slept soundly, cuddled up to her favorite stuffed toy. An adoring smile tugged at her lips. She shook her head with a silent laugh and continued to the bathroom. Her fingers found the light switch with ease from many times practice of fumbling across the wall during the late nights spent losing sleep to books. The light took her by surprise with its unexpected intensity, something it never failed to do on nights similar to this one. Reading _Tom Sawyer_ for hours with the light of a dim lamp did that to you.

Her reflection smiled back with its mop of dark brown hair and lazily upturned lips, heavy eyelids hid most of her hazel colored eyes. Her knuckles worked at the sleepiness to no avail; The tiredness still firmly remained when she pulled away, newly accompanied by a bothersome itch. She gave up on trying to wipe the persistent sensation away when her eyes became watery, she settled with squinting. The water on her hands as she lathered them with a lavender soap was just as unhelpful to her cause. It left her just as tired, but with cold hands. Trying to stay awake was no longer proving to be worth the effort. She reluctantly decided to give in to sleep when she returned to her bed and began to leave.

Reaching for the door, her hand stopped mid-air. A sound echoed from inside the hall, a soft thud that was nearly missed. She attempted to dismiss her growing worry; Afterall, it was probably nothing, but Avery had been fast asleep only a few minutes prior. 'I'm just scaring myself. It's nothing. Just get in bed and go to sleep.' She wanted to shrug it off, but something felt heavy against her chest. The air was thick, surrounding her in an uncomfortable blanket, making it difficult to breathe. Something was off, no matter how hard she tried to push it aside. In an act of bravery, she rolled her eyes and reached for the door again.

Her hand made it to the bronze knob this time and closed around the cold metal, turning it quietly. She slipped into the hall, keeping the bathroom light on for security. Relief washed over her when she saw that she had gotten herself worked up over nothing, and she reached her hand back to turn off the light. Her fingers had just brushed over the plastic switch when a man stepped out of the room ahead. She froze. The fear she had felt came back with a newfound intensity. Her thoughts raced, but her feet remained planted. In light of her terror, something went off inside her: the man wasn't normal. Amid the overwhelming emotion and turbulent thoughts, a sense of something inhuman briefly came to light. He glowed, but there was nothing there. It was a fleeting awareness. Her breathing quickened, becoming ragged, her vision blurred, and legs threatened to give. It was quickly apparent that losing consciousness was inevitable. Her eyes were glued to the man and his sadistic smile. Her head screamed 'run,' but it was lost in translation, for her body remained still. She trembled and shook but refused to move no matter how much she screamed and thrashed in the restraints of her mind. Paralyzing fear became the only thought she could form. A scream forced its way up her throat but fell to her feet, resembling the sound of a strangled hiccup.

Darkness threatened to overtake her senses, but she fought it with what little will remained. Her vision blurred and fell grey. She stared into his hate-filled eyes, unable to tear away from them. He was inches away, his hot breath, thick enough to choke on, polluting the air around her with the stench of cigarettes. Her eyes clenched shut, the image of his hate-filled eyes burned into her mind. She slumped back against the wall, and she waited for death or unconsciousness to take her, with no idea of which would come first. She prayed the latter. Hoping she would wake up to it all having been a terrible dream.

White light shined before her closed eyes. She squeezed them tighter shut. Opening them only after the blinding light had subsided. The man slumped to the floor, replaced by another, a short round man with a scruffy stubble. He held something that glinted silver in her blurred vision. She squinted. Upon focusing, she saw it was a long, thin blade. Blood trickled down it, falling to the floor where it joined the large pool forming around the dead body.

He withdrew an equally red handkerchief and wiped the blade with a distasteful expression. The bloodied knife and stained cloth disappeared in his suit, and he filled his chest with an almost annoyed breath. He watched the trembling girl with a drawn expression, looking her up and down with scrutinizing eyes.

"Blimey angels." He muttered, something barely audible to her numbed senses. Her thoughts were frantically swimming- drowning- as they fought losing battles with one another. She knew her family was gone. Still, she couldn't comprehend it.

"Avery...?" Her meek voice faded away inches from where it tipped off her hesitant tongue. She was overcome by tears she hadn't been aware of having started. Her feet had finally found their footing, she dashed for Avery's door, only to be stopped by a brisk arm hooked around her waist. The mysterious man pushed her back against the wall with a solemn look.

"Trust me, kid, you don't want to go in there. Stand still for a moment. My name's Crowley." This time her brain had found enough clarity to comprehend his words and even notice his accent. A mild Scottish accent was subdued by a stronger British one that, in any other situation, she would have enjoyed. He held her against the wall, but his grip was gentle.

"Please..." She squeaked, her plea was ignored, his hand rose between them, she stared at it with confusion. He then clicked his fingers, and the ground looked different, but it wasn't just the ground that had changed. Her head whipped around, whirling and racing. They were no longer standing in the hall of her home; Instead, they stood in the middle of a large cement corridor. Her gaze pulled back to the mysterious man as a headache began to announce its presence. All she could do was stare.

"It's okay, Sweetheart, it's over, just breathe." His hand found her shoulder and squeezed it, a failed attempt at reassurance. Her family had just been murdered, a stranger's gentle hand was barely registered.

___

Thirteen years have passed since the events of that night. Upon the death of the girl's family, she was thrown into a new, tumultuous life; One nothing like the path she was previously set on. She was a woman now, known to be formidable and, at times, overly assertive. She was sitting on the throne of Hell, no metaphors, no special meaning. She was literally sitting on Hell's big girl chair. Her feet hung over the edge haphazardly while she tossed her prized knife in the air lazily with disinterest.

"Oi, Johnny! Bring me pizza... I'm feeling Hawaiian with bacon." She barked at the demon standing in the corner.

"It's Jeremy, your highness." He corrected in a timid voice, which amused her greatly. It never failed to amuse her how pathetic some demons were. She, at times, wondered how they'd got on for as long as they have.

"Fantastic. Bring me pizza." She gestured loosely with the knife and a sarcastic smile. He left and returned with a steaming box that delighted her senses. Upon handing her the box, he dipped into a bow. She frowned.

"Would you stop that? You look like an idiot... Now skedaddle." She shooed him away with her blade. Her father entered the room as the timid demon was leaving and watched him with a questioning look that he dismissed as he approached. She smiled innocently before biting into a slice of pizza.

"Harley! Would you get off of my throne!"

 _"Get off my throne!"_ She mocked, scrunching up her face in a mischievous grin. He took the pizza box from her hands. She jumped for it, only for it to be pulled from her reach. Her father took a piece for himself before making a point in slowly setting it back into her impatient hands.

"Daddy, I'm bored. There's nothing for me to kill." She whined, doing a sub-par job at puppy eyes.

Crowley had become her father after he rescued her all those years ago. Although, she was later told the man who had been murdered in bed alongside her mother hadn't been her real father. Her real father was different. Before Crowley had saved her, she had thought she was normal, like the rest of her family, like anyone else. Her beliefs were far from the truth as she came to realize. It had come as quite the surprise when Crowley began showing her the powers she possessed. He, being the teddy bear he is, took her in; instead of using her, as was his original plan. The demon had fallen in love with the poor little girl she once was. He spent every day personally training her to use her abilities, as well as how to survive without them. He taught her to plan and observe, to always be ten steps ahead. She'd since grown up to be, in her humble opinion, "a kick-ass Mamba Jamba." She was a force to be reckoned with. And she is and always will be, his little girl, despite being twenty-five. She found a family in Hell: Just Crowley, herself, and Morris. Morris is her hellhound, a gift from Crowley for her thirteenth birthday. He had taken it upon himself to find the strongest hound for his little girl, and so Morris is an astoundingly large dog, able to trounce most others with ease. He is loved dearly.

"Go kill something then, you're a smart cookie, you'll figure it out." She sighed but decided to take his advice, even if he just wanted her to leave him alone. She'd just get out of Hell for a while, go find a case, and perhaps kill something. What's the worst that could happen?

"Fine." Her feet dragged as she walked over to him, poking out her bottom lip. She kissed his rough cheek before teleporting out. In a bedroom inside her Wisconsin safehouse, she stretched her arms, taking a moment to smile at the sunlight filtering through her window. It was a nice change from the fiery pits of Hell. The mid-afternoon sun shined brightly inside a clear blue sky. She pulled the laptop that was on her bed to the edge and opened up the police scanner she had hacked into a few years back. She had set it up to collect cases involving weird crap that would be of her expertise by searching for a set of keywords. She got a hit and read through the stolen file. It seemed to have a clear answer. A woman's body was found behind a dumpster in an alley behind a hole-in-the-wall bar. She'd been drained of all of her blood, signifying what was most likely a vampire attack.

Harley cleaned herself up and put on a suit. Her dark, tight-fitting attire turned professional. A crop top was now a blouse and clean-cut blazer; shorts, perfect-fitting dress pants; boots, expensive-looking flats. She threw her hair into a tight bun and put diamond studs in her first piercings. If she was going to commit a felony by impersonating an FBI agent, she might as well do it with style. She snapped her fingers and was in the alley the woman had been found in. She ran through her mental checklist before stepping out front and onto the walkway, taking confident strides. She walked inside and was nearly stopped in her tracks, her head quickly tilting to the floor to hide her surprised expression. She forced herself to walk, maintaining an unfazed exterior. The sight of two actual FBI agents questioning the bartender had suddenly made things more complicated. _Well, that's a bit of a pickle._

Thank you so much for reading my first chapter.

I hope you enjoyed!

-Dani


	2. Roomies?

_That's a bit of a pickle._

There was an unoccupied booth across the room from the FBI agents. She slid into it, avoiding the stares of a table of creepy men. They asked routine questions, and she listened in, annoyed that they'd taken her case. She glanced above the menu that she was pretending to read, observing the profiles of the two men at the counter. A body blocked her view. She looked up to see a drunken man smiling down at her. He smelled of cigarettes, his yellowed teeth reflecting years of the vice.

"Hello, pretty lady." His words slurred slightly.

"Fuck off, I'm not interested." She stood up, glowering at the man, attempting to walk past him, he caught her arm. She restrained herself from swinging her fist into the middle of his face, and instead opted for a passive-aggressive smile.

"Buddy, if you don't let go of my arm, I will shoot your dick off." She spat through clenched teeth. Her hand slowly moved to her hip, prompting him to let go. She gave him a satisfied grin and flipped back to the door. She walked back outside and down the alley, irritated she'd missed the questioning. She was suddenly spun around, her back harshly shoved into the wall. Down the barrel of the silver Colt pointed in her face, a strikingly gorgeous FBI agent frowned at her.

"We saw your demon blade. Who are you?!" The man demanded. His gun held firmly in her face. The other agent stood back with his hands tucked away in his coat pockets. He was taller and broad-shouldered. He wore a curious expression but didn't interject.

"Hakuna your tatas. You see one little demon blade, and your immediate response is to threaten my life? You do this a lot, don't you? Assault innocent people." She taunted with a snicker. She glanced at the taller man and back. "What an odd pair the two of you are. Both super hot, though, so that's a plus." She winked at the taller man, he looked down at his feet in an attempt to hide his smile.

"Answer the damn question before I shoot you! Who are you?" The man was undoubtedly a hunter. She shuffled through his thoughts, confirming her suspicion. Standing before her was Sam and Dean Winchester, the infamous brothers. She had heard a lot about them from Crowley and other demons, but everyone failed to mention how beautiful they were.

"I'm a hunter too, ya cunt. Put me down now, thanks." She tried to push him off, but his hand didn't let up from where it pinned her against the wall. She sighed and rolled her eyes. He squinted in return.

"How?-" He let go of her to pull out a flask, splashing holy water in her face. She jerked away from the sudden wetness, looking back with a bitchface as water trickled down her scowling expression.

"Seriously, holy water? I'm not a demon or any other monster. Allow me to introduce myself, the name's Harley Lawrence. A one-man show of the same expertise. And I get it, you guys have got it all covered, but I'm staying, so either work with me or stay out of my way. Good day." She shoved Dean off and turned to leave. The sound of his gun cocking made her groan. She stopped, looking up at the sky in frustration.

"You aren't going anywhere." She turned to face him. Her face contorted in an indignant expression. This was becoming tedious.

"Look, some vamps decided to dry a few humans of their pesky blood and blame it on a Bela Kiss 2.0. It's an easy job. Just liberate a few bloodsuckers of their toothy little heads, and call it a day. Now, if you would quit pointing your damn gun at me and let at least one of us do our job. That'd be great." She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Who?" Dean narrowed his eyes.

"He was a serial killer, wasn't he? Drained his victims of their blood?" The taller man spoke up.

"Ooh! Someone knows their serial killers. I like you already." Harley looked Sam up and down. "Now, whether you like it or not. I want in. Can we quit wasting time and go kill some vamps?"

"Don't move!" Dean jabbed a finger in her direction and walked a few feet down the alley to talk to his brother. She mocked him as he turned away. They discussed what to do with her. Dean being an ass, voted for trying to dump her. Sam offered they give her a chance. Thanks, big boy. They came back, and Harley offered a sweet smile. She hummed innocently upon receiving a threatening look from Dean.

"Alright, fine. But you so much as think of pulling something, and I'll kill you." Dean stared her down, she pretended to cower.

"Yes sir," She sang condescendingly. "So, are you going to introduce yourselves, or is that a pleasure I'm to be deprived of?" Her eyes washed over Sam's body once more. Unlike his dirty blonde haired and green-eyed brother, Sam's hair was a dark brown that fell to his jaw. His blue-green eyes, curious and observant.

"No." Dean cut through her thoughts. He moved toward her and began patting her down.

"Well, buy me a drink first." She smirked. He looked up from her torso, unamused.

"Sorry about him, I'm Sam. That's my older brother Dean." Sam stepped closer.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sam." Dean pulled his sixth weapon from her person.

"Why the hell are you carrying this much? You've got a mini arsenal going on." He gave her a look as if she was insane. He had pocketed a gun and a few knives, but he missed others; Like the knife in her shoe, and sadly, the nine-inch blade secured in her jacket.

"Where's your car?" He stared at her impatiently.

"Took a bus." She challenged, unimpressed by his attempt at looking intimidating. "Can we go now?" A smug smile crossed her face.

"There's an abandoned farmhouse worth checking out that isn't very far away. It's worth a shot." Sam pushed his brother out of the alley and waited for her to follow behind Dean. The hunter stopped in front of a 67' Impala, she let out an approving whistle.

"That's one hell of a ride, Hotstuff." She ran her fingers across its paint job.

"This is Baby." Dean smiled proudly.

"Baby. I like her," She commented as she slid into the backseat. Sam held the door open for her and closed it behind her. Dean drove to the house Sam had told them about. Upon their arrival, Harley stepped out into the cool shade. Her hand closed around the machete in her jacket, and she pulled it out while staring at Dean.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" He whisper-yelled at her.

"Uh, my jacket... You're dealing with a pro, doll. I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve." She snickered at her own pun. He watched with a mix of confusion and impressment.

"I-" He shook his head. "Let's just get this over with." He walked to his trunk and opened it. The carpet was pulled up, and a beautiful array of weapons came into view.

"Damn Baby's got the hookup. I'm impressed." She surveyed the guns, knives, and various other weapons. Dean pulled up two machetes and handed one to Sam. The men walked out in front, which prompted an eye roll from the girl behind them. They were in the right place. The air was rich with fresh blood. It couldn't be a large nest since it was a relatively small house, but the amount of blood present could feed quite a few vamps. Her grip tightened over the machete, and she took a deep breath. Impending danger always excited her.

The Winchesters kicked the front door open and stepped inside the dismal house. Four vampires stood in front of them, donning dark smiles. The brothers were attacked first, a vampire for each hunter. The remaining two circled the woman.

"Do you know what we do to pretty faces like yours?" A tall, thin vamp watched her with cutting eyes.

"Oh honey, do you know what I do with monsters like you?" She shot back, dodging his initial advance. Her machete cut through his abdomen, leaving behind a long gash. He growled from deep within his throat but backed off for the moment. The second man advanced. He managed to attack her before she could react, sending her into the back wall. She hit the wall and slid down, he was on top of her in no time, but she was prepared. His body hovered over her and left no room for escape. She swung hard, and his head came clean off. It flew against another wall with a wet smack. His body fell on top of her, blood washing over her. She scrunched her nose, kicking the body away. She jumped back up to the first vamp, baring his fangs as he advanced. She swung again. The disembodied head flew into the air, touching the ground and bouncing until settling a few feet away from Sam, who stared at it with surprise. She surveyed the men and the bloodied room.

"Well, damn shorty." Dean looked her up and down.

"What's with the smile?" Sam eyed her grin with a curious look.

"What? A girl can't enjoy her job?" She smirked, attempting to wipe some of the blood that covered her face and neck.

"Alright, enough talking. Let's finish this job and get out of here." Dean led them through the house. They ran into a few more vamps but got rid of them with ease. It was decided the place was clean, the hunters walked back to the Impala.

"Here." Dean threw a towel at her from his trunk. "Don't get blood in my car."

"Yes, sir." She mocked and wiped away some of the blood, essentially just smearing it.

"So, what are you going to do with me now?" She popped her lips and leaned forward, so her head stuck over the front seat.

"Figured we'd just drop you off at the bus station. Got a better proposition? Got anywhere to go?" Dean turned to face her.

"Nope. Haven't got anywhere to go. I'll just find another hotel and be on my merry way." She smiled, despite feeling that her way of life was getting old, and had been for years. She wanted a real home. Somewhere that wasn't hell and had living people and friends, instead of being surrounded by demons and damned souls.

The two men exchanged glances, and then Sam turned to face her. "Then you're staying with us. You did good back there. We could use someone like you. You can stay with us for as long as you'd like." She mulled over his offer for a few seconds and shrugged.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take you up on your offer." Her words surprised herself. She had just agreed to something completely insane. They'd kill her if they knew about her powers, about who she was.

"Do you have stuff we need to pick up?" Dean asked.

"Nah, I stole it anyway, and this was my best suit. I'll let someone else have it."

A few hours later, they pulled into an underground garage in the middle of nowhere. Which happened to be Kansas. Inside was a few old cars and a large workbench. She marveled at the size of the well-hidden cement room. Sam opened her door, taking her attention away from outside the windshield. He held out his hand, which she happily accepted, surprised by the softness for that of a hunter's. His hand completely encased hers. He was a big guy, towering over her 5'7 self.

"Sam? How tall are you?" She asked like a curious child. He looked at her for a moment and laughed.

"Uh, 6'4" He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged childishly, swinging her arms. In doing so, she realized she was still holding onto his hand. She thought about this for a moment but decided she didn't want to let go. They walked through an iron doorway and into a long corridor. He led her into a large study lined with books and artifacts. The room's center housed two large wooden tables.

"Welcome to our home. There's plenty of space for another. I'll give you a quick tour." Sam took her around the underground hideout while Dean remained in the garage. He showed her the kitchen, and a room Dean had made into a man cave, storage rooms, and lastly, what would be her room. Her room was much bigger than the hotels she sometimes stayed in. It had a nice looking king-size bed, its own bathroom, and a walk-in closet.

"This place is amazing, Sam. Thank you for letting me stay with you guys." She hugged the hunter, he hadn't expected it, but quickly relaxed into the embrace.

"Yeah, you can stay, but that doesn't mean I trust you." Dean watched them from the doorway.

"Would you lay off her Dean? She doesn't need you constantly trying to scare her. She got the message the first time." Sam frowned at his brother.

"It's okay, Sam. I get it. You guys didn't have to do this for me. I understand you are hesitant to trust me. But if that's the worse I've got to endure for an actual place to stay, I can handle it." She didn't know why she was even staying in the first place: Maybe it was for the sake of trying something new. "I'm going to call it a night. Thanks for everything, boys- Oh wait. I need clothes, think I could borrow a shirt." She looked up at Sam. Dean grunted and walked off.

"Oh, right, come on." He pulled her down the hall to what he had earlier pointed out to be his room. Dean had gone into the door a few feet away from it.

"Sorry about the mess." Sam apologized when she stepped inside. He had no need to apologize. There were only a few books around his room and an unmade bed.

"It's okay... Not one for sleeping, are you?" She referenced to his disarray of sheets.

"Not really. Here, this should do. I'm afraid I don't really have anything else for you, though." He handed her a black and white plaid flannel.

"Thanks, goodnight Sam." She hugged him again, careful not to get any blood on his clean shirt. Back in her room, she took a hot shower, happy to get all of the blood off of her and turn her blood-soaked hair light brown again. She put on Sam's shirt and rolled up the sleeves that were longer than her arms, and buttoned the middle. She only wore her underwear underneath it, but the shirt was the size of a dress on her. The shirt's smell was refreshing, and she soon drifted off to sleep in the new covers. She made it to the kitchen early the next morning only to realize she was the only person awake. She snuck around the kitchen, trying to keep the noise to a minimum in her search for coffee. She finishing her second cup as Dean walked in.

"Mor- Oh. Okay wow. You are barely dressed. I mean, that's really hot, but I don't know you and your standing in my kitchen half-naked." Dean forced his eyes away from her body.

"Morning doll. It's all I had to wear, although I didn't think it would bother you." She watched him with curiosity.

"It doesn't... It's just... I don't know you and your standing here in only my brother's shirt." He avoided her eyes, focusing on something a bit lower.

"I could take his shirt off if that makes you feel better." She enjoyed messing with him.

"No! Don't- no. We'll go get you clothes after I drink my coffee."

"Whatever you say, doll." She smirked.

"Quit giggling and drink your dang coffee." He turned his back to her to make his coffee.

"Why waste another cup?" She slid next to him and put her cup on the counter. Her hand resting on his muscular arm, she moved her body close to him. He sighed, though it was more of a moan. She pulled away with a smile and turned to leave. She could feel his eyes watching until she turned the corner. She strolled down the hall, deciding to visit Sam's room. It took a minute for him to open the door. When it swung open, it revealed a disheveled Sam. His hair was messy, which was cute, but she was more concerned with his carved features that were no longer hidden by a shirt.

"Thanks, Sam. I forgot what I was going to say now..." _Did Michelangelo carve him?_

"What did I do?" He asked, oblivious as he ran his hands through his hair, somehow making it magically appear brushed. _Hot and perfect hair, seriously?_

"Oh yeah. That's what it was, clothes. But not for you, definitely not for you. You can stay just like that." She leaned against his door frame and treated herself to the view. Indulging in his chiseled abs. He shook his head with an adorable morning smile and flipped on the light next to him. He walked to his closet and took out a shirt, much to her disappointment. She groaned as he pulled it over his head, making him laugh.

"No, don't do that." She pouted as the last of his abs disappeared under a shirt. "Hey handsome, what's with your brother? I mean, I get it, he doesn't trust me. But there's more to it than that." His expression softened.

"We've been through a lot, the two of us. We've had a lot of people turn on us. It's just hard to trust anyone."

"You haven't threatened to shoot me." Her voice came out more soft and gentle than her usual sarcastic tone.

"Yeah," He laughed a brief disheartened chuckle. "We deal differently. Besides, I didn't need to threaten you. He already had that covered." He walked back over to her and sat down next to her on his bed.

"He's taking me to get some clothes if you want to come with." She arranged her hair into a messy bun and pulled him out of the room with her. Harley dipped into her room to put on her dress pants and shoes from the day before. Luckily, the black fabric didn't show the blood too bad. She tied the front of the flannel, knowing she looked ridiculous, but it was the best she could do.

"Come on, girls. Let's go shopping!" Dean mocked as they entered the garage. He slid into the driver's seat and started up the Impala. She purred, and Harley hummed, satisfied with the car's pleasant rumbling. Sam opened her door as he had done for her before, and she slid in. Sam got in beside Dean, catching her eye with a smile as he sat down.

They pulled up to a department store and went inside. Dean soon left them to sit on a bench and watch a pretty girl in the cosmetics section. Leaving Sam and Harley to rummage through the racks of clothing. To her surprise, Sam joined her in looking for clothes. She found a red shirt and held it up for him to see. He smiled at it and shook his head in approval. He surprised her again when he pulled up a shirt that she found to be cute.

"That's not completely hideous, I'll take it." She took the shirt from him with a smile. It was a loose-fitting off the shoulder grey tee that was really soft. She walked around, picking up a few more shirts.

"I noticed you guys have got a thing for plaid. I'd feel left out if I didn't have at least one plaid shirt too." She held up a red plaid shirt with blue stripes. He laughed but shook his head.

They walked around the store, piling the cart with essentials: Everything from boots to hair products. Harley glanced at Dean from time to time. The woman had left, and he sat impatiently, leaned back on the bench, watching lazily. On the occasions he caught Harley's eye, he glared, clearly wanting to go home. The shopping cart was overflowing, and there was one more thing she wanted to get. She pulled Sam by the hand over to the lingerie section. Grinning at his amused look, she winked. She giggled at his awkward stance as she shuffled through the table in front of her. She held up two thongs, a red and a black, and asked which would look better on.

"Definitely the red one." Dean walked up behind her.

"That's what I thought, but every girl needs a pair of lacy black underwear too." She threw both at Sam and surveyed a few more.

"As fun as it is watching you freak Sam out with lingerie, I'd like to leave sometime today." Dean hooked an arm around her and dragging her to the counter. The cashier smiled politely at them, and Harley returned with a little smirk.

"But- Deann." She pouted.

"Nope." He shook his head, tilting his chin upward. She rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the side. He paid with a stolen credit card, and the three of them hauled her new stuff to the car. Sam helped unpack everything when they got back, while Dean went off to do his own thing. It took no time at all, with them both working at organizing all of the stuff.

"Thanks, Sam." Harley hugged his side when she walked back into the room from finishing up in the bathroom. That night she made dinner to thank them, and they hung out around the bunker, getting to know each other. She didn't share much about herself and kept it vague, but she enjoyed listening to their stories. They ended the night with a movie; by the time the credits began to roll, they were all asleep sprawled across the couch.


	3. Satan? Is It Really You?

"Morning, boys!" Harley kissed their cheeks as she entered the kitchen.

"Morning, Lee, you're later than usual," Sam observed as she kissed him.

"Yeah, felt like sleeping in, I guess." She took the coffee he handed her and sat down on the table beside his chair, leaning back on her arm so she could see both boys. "Thanks, handsome." She sipped her steaming coffee. "Have we got a case?" She asked happily.

"Might. There's been some odd deaths in Missouri," Dean answered for Sam.

"Odd?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Just good ol' impalement by an invisible force, the usual." Dean slurped his coffee. She reacted with a giddy smile.

Harley has been living with the Winchesters for over a year now, and it's been _interesting_. She visits Crowley on occasion, typically at night as to not draw attention to her disappearances. She's been able to keep up her 'normal human' image with them and plans to keep it that way. Even when Castiel is around, their best friend who just so happens to be an angel. It had taken some magicking to mask her aura from him. She had hated him at first since it was angels that plotted and murdered her family, and he was the first angel she'd ever really met. But she's since warmed up to the awkward man and his trench coat.

They got to town that afternoon and made quick work of the witches who had been terrorizing people. Dean got hexed and nearly died, but it all worked out when Harley shot a witch in the head. They stayed the night at a hotel in town. The next morning the three of them left around ten to head back. Harley laid across the back seat, bobbing her head to Dean's music- that they had discovered to share a love for- and played The Walking Dead game on her phone. The car came to a screeching halt without warning, and she tumbled into the floorboard. She hoisted herself up with an exaggerated huff.

"What the bloody hell, Dean?" Her accent came out. She leaned against the back of the front seat in an attempt to see what was going on. A man was standing in the middle of the road with a smirk.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean slammed his palm against the top of the steering wheel and climbed out. Sam followed, both drawing their guns. Harley watched through the windshield for a moment before curiosity got the best of her, and she joined them. The mysterious man's sly smile widened as Lee approached, the hunters stood defensively. She noticed something the Winchesters couldn't. Lucifer quit paying the brothers any attention as soon as she stepped out of the car. He was intrigued by the beautiful brunette. He took his time eyeing her from head to toe, from her combat boots and tight jeans to her knotted black t-shirt.

"Well, hello there, gorgeous!" He stepped forward, just as transfixed with her as she was with him. The Winchesters moved in front of her protectively.

"Oh, come on, guys! It's not like I would hurt her," he feigned a sincere smile, "Unless you're into that." He winked, giving Harley a suggestive smirk. She knew he could see her aura just like she could see his, but he kept his mouth shut about it.

"Boys. No need to freak out. I'm fine." She pushed past them, watching Lucifer with a curious smile. His aura was beautiful. He winked with a boyish smile.

"No, Lee. That isn't just any douchebag, that's freaking Satan! Go back to the car." Dean tried to pull her back, but she didn't give an inch.

"Yes, I'll be much safer in the car. That'll prevent him from hurting me if he decides to." She glared at him, he frowned in return. "So, what is it you are just burning to ask of us?" She ignored the Winchesters and gave Lucifer an overly sweet smile.

"I need your help as much as it pains me to say. Michael's stronger than I am, for now. He stole some of my grace, got a little extra happy juice... If he gets his greedy little hands on heaven. Well, this pathetic world will burn. I don't think you want that to happen any more than I do. I need a place to crash for a bit and a tad bit of help, and in return, I'll save the world out of the kindness of my heart." He drew the corners of his lips up in a cocky smile. "Plus, I'd love to get to know you." His eyes washed over Harley, making her tense. She was intrigued by him, but he was still the devil just the same.

"The hell we do. We aren't helping you." Dean spat.

"Poor Ralphy's dead, and so is Gabe, and well, I happen to be the only Archangel left. And we all know it takes an archangel to kill my big bro. Unless you can find my absent father, that is." He knew he was right, his cocky smile grew.

"Let me guess, we're stuck with him if we want to keep the world spinning. Perfect." She turned to stare at Dean, who was scowling. She shrugged when he didn't respond. _Dad's going to kill me._

"Dammit..." Dean growled.

Ten minutes later, Harley sat in the back seat next to Satan himself. Which proved to be annoying more than anything else. "Do I get to stay in your room?" He slid closer to her and leaned down with a flirty smile.

"Lucifer, I will cut your dick off if you don't remove your hand." She pulled a knife from her jacket, his hand retreated from her thigh.

"Good doggy. Now move before I stab you anyway." She stared him in the eyes, scowling.

"Feisty. I like it." He purred, further irritating her.

"Hey! Leave her alone, douchebag. I will shoot you." Dean seared holes into Lucifer from the rearview mirror. The ride home was tense and uncomfortable. Lucifer kept tempting Harley to stab him. It took her a lot of strength not to jab her knife into his neck. She jumped out of the car as soon as they got home, not being able to stand another minute of him. She glared, he smiled back sweetly. She had an urge to punch him in his smug face, which was a change from wanting to stab him, so she considered it progress. The four of them walked inside. Dean walked up front, heading straight for the beer. Sam and Harley walked hand in hand with Lucifer scuffing his feet behind them. They sat at one of the long tables in the study, Lucifer trailed behind, plopping into the seat next to Harley. Sam put his arm around her shoulders and glared at Lucifer. She leaned into Sam and tried to ignore the idiot beside her with little success. They put an Enochian cuff on Lucifer to restrain his powers, which he received with a pissed-off expression. The men droned on about Michael, boring Harley to death. She realized she had been spacing out, so she got up, pulling away from Sam's warm body.

"Yep, I can't listen to this anymore. I'm going for a walk. See you guys later." She walked up the stairs and outside before the boys could object. The evening air was refreshing as it engulfed her. She decided she'd pay Crowley a visit.

"Hey, Dad. How's hell been?" She hung her arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hell as usual. Where have you been? It's been weeks since you last graced us with your presence." He added a little bit of sarcasm, she rolled her eyes.

"Winchesters as usual." She dismissed.

"Why must you do this to me? They die at least once a year. Yet you, for some reason, think it's a splendid idea to play housemates with them. You're a lot more difficult to resurrect than those two dimwits."

"They aren't so bad, and they haven't died once on my watch; Besides, it's nice to have someone watching my back on hunts."

"Morris could do that."

"Yeah, but he isn't a human connection. I need friends Dad. They're my friends."

"I'm doing fine without friends."

"Daddy, no, you aren't. You're bored out of your mind here, and if memory serves me right, you're friends with Dean when he isn't trying to kill you."

"Hey, ruling these morons is a full-time job." He answered defensively. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"Heya, Johnny! Pizza, will ya?" She smiled at the demon.

"It's Jeremy, dear. His name is Jeremy." Crowley corrected her as the demon left.

"That's what I said." She waved him off. Johnny came back with a pizza box. They took it and dismissed him. Pulling out a slice each, they began their usual walk. They strolled hell's dark corridors yelling orders and gossiping.

"I should probably get going, Dad. I love you." She pecked his cheek and snapped back to the front of the bunker. She strolled inside to see the men's heads swivel at the sound of her entrance.

"Where the hell have you been?!" - _well, that's ironic_ \- "It's been four hours." Dean got up from the table and met her at the stairs as he yelled like a worried parent. _He's cute when he gets all riled up and protective._

"Ooh, has it? Oops. Dean, I'm fine, it's okay. Just lost track of time, I guess, calm down, babe." She wrapped her arms around his torso, and he relaxed a little. "See, perfectly fine." She stepped back and spread out her arms as if to show that she was unharmed. Having people blatantly worry about her had been a change. Especially someone nearly having a heart attack over her being away for a few hours. The brothers have become her family, the most important men in the world to her next to Crowley.

"Aww. Dean. You're such a worried father, it's adorable." Lucifer teased, and Harley couldn't help but shrug in agreeance. She saw Dean tense and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from where it had migrated toward his gun. No one wanted Lucifer here. They were all on edge every time he opened his mouth, which was often. She squeezed Dean's hand and pulled him back to his chair. He sat down, and she made herself comfy on his lap, his hand still in hers. She leaned into Dean's chest, his cheek came to rest on the top of her head.

"We can't shoot him, Dean. We need him." He grunted in response.

After a while of just sitting together, Harley decided to call it a night. She turned her head and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight," Harley wanted to tell him, but she didn't know how. They said it, but her mouth never managed to form the words. _Screw it_. "I...I love you, Dean." Her voice came out quietly. She hadn't said that to anyone except Crowley since her family's death. She hugged him a little longer than she meant to and tried not to cry. She'd never had a friend to love, not in this life; before her family was brutally murdered, maybe, but since, it's been Crowley, Morris, and her. The courage to say those three words came out of nowhere. She wanted to run to her room now that she had used it up.

"Did you just?! - I love you too," Dean whispered wide-eyed and smiling. She walked away before she could get emotional.

"So, I'm confused, which one of you is she banging? Or is it like a three-way deal?" She heard Lucifer comment. She could see Dean's face without looking.

"Okay! Come on, good ol' Satan, before Dean dismembers you." She yelled. She heard the sound of Lucifer's chair scraping the floor, followed by him popping into the hallway and bounding over. She continued down the hall until he got too close, and his arm slipped around her shoulders. She slammed him against the wall.

"Watch it, or I will turn your ribcage inside out!" She shoved off of him and glared hard.

"Feisty." He muttered to himself with a smile. 

She went down the hall to Sam's room and knocked on the door. His figure appeared, glaring over her shoulder at Lucifer, and receiving a smug smile in response. She slid under the arm he had propped against the door frame and closed the door behind her. She walked past him to sit on the bed, beginning to lose the battle to tears.

"Woah Lee, what's wrong?" Sam's voice was laced with concern as he sat down next to her, his arm finding its way around her waist.

"I love you." She leaned into his chest, shuddering silently.

"I love you too, Lee." He paused to process, "What- are you okay?" He hugged her to his chest and rocked gently, pushing her hair over her shoulder. It's longer than when she'd first met the Winchesters and has since been dyed an ombre burgundy. He kissed her temple.

"I haven't had told anyone that since I was twelve. Since- my family was murdered. They slit my parent's throats and- and Avery's. Avery was seven Sam. And- I'm trying to be normal, but it's so hard. But I love you guys, you've given me a family again... Thank you." She sobbed in his arms. She had never told them about her family before. She told them they were dead when she had been asked but never elaborated on that.

"Shh, it's okay, Lee. I've got you, I love you too." He cooed. She sat in his arms for another ten minutes before she quit crying.

"I should- I should go. Thanks for being here for me, Sam." She got up shakily and kissed him. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lee." She saw the wetness in his eyes as she turned to leave. She nodded with a bittersweet smile and stepped out, closing the door behind her.


End file.
